Before
by Winter Ashby
Summary: Katara has a secret. [Jet & Katara] Slight Katara & Zuko and Katara & Aang


**Title:** Before**  
Author:** Winter Ashby _(rosweldrmr)_  
**Disclaimer:** Avatar the Last Airbender © Michael Dante DiMartino & Bryan Konietzko  
**Rating:** K  
**Summary: **Katara has a secret. (Katara & Jet) Slight Katara & Zuko and Katara & Aang  
**Authors Notes:** I don't know where this came from. I blame SpiritualEnergy (thanks for the inspiration and BETA)... and a really boring job where I have to ride for half-an-hour on the Metro-rail each way. It gives me way too much time to sit, think, imagine, and write.

* * *

Before the green-crystal cave, deep in the belly of Ba Sing Se, there were the lover's tunnels of Oma and Shu. 

Before there was ever a glimmer of shared loss reflected in hollow, yellow eyes there was a trail of blue-lit-pathways and lover's song.

But farther back, before the pauper prince and the anachronistic avatar, there were dusky sunsets and the brazen confidence of a violent vigilante.

Before there was a spark, there was a gust. And before that? Before the wind that put out the flame?

There was two halves of a sword-shaped-heart.

Before Zuko there was Aang.

And before Aang?

There was Jet.

And before Jet, Katara had never been kissed before.

Katara never told them, any of them. Not Sokka, not Aang, and later, not Toph. She hid it from them. Held it deep in her chest, settled against the crevice he left behind when her childish idea of him was shattered in a torrent of tears because destroying life was more important to him that saving it.

She hated him after that, for stealing her first kiss under false pretenses. She hated him later in Ba Sing Se when he was everything she remembered, but different, fake somehow. She hated him when he wanted to help. She hated him when he swore he was different. And she hated him most of all as he lay, flat on his back, dying, and still lying.

She hated those filthy, useless memories that she couldn't wash away, no matter how much water she could bend.

It was before she'd ever visited the desert and the swamp. It was in was the forest. Thick overhanging branches with broad green leaves that hid a fortress of Freedom Fighters. They were battle worn with downcast eyes that lit up like the morning sun peaking through the canopy to wake the band of unlikely brothers. They were the Robinhood's of that lonely stretch of forest. They were the last thing that stood between orphans and warriors. They were the orphans and warriors. But they were also young then, and full of misplaced pride. They were just trying to survive.

Jet, who'd saved her, who'd admired her, who'd accepted her strengths, who'd welcomed her and the misbegotten group she traveled with. Flying bison, failed tracker-of-a-brother with instincts no better than a lump of stone, hyperactive Avatar with the weight of the world pressing hard against shoulders, and a lemur that would eat just about anything.

_ --- _

Katara blushed. That was no surprise. The night he took her into the trees, vine in his hand and arm around her waist, her face flushed pink. She watched his profile as they rose higher and higher into the trees, until there was nothing but a floating fortress, with hidden pathways and loose wooden planks.

He held her hand, and to her, he was perfect.

He was handsome and dangerous because he was a leader and a fighter. To her, Jet was a hero when the world that was severely deprived of them.

She still thought about the kiss, in secret, dark corners of time when she was sure no one would notice as she retreated into herself. She thought she might have loved him then, as he leaned in, her heart racing, and he stole the tips of her lips in his. It was soft, and warm. But light, like the flutter of a leaf across her cheek.

_Or was that his fingertips brushing over my skin?_

Her eyes were closed, and she thought that her heart would never stop slamming against the cage of her ribs. Her hands quivered and she frantically wondered, uselessly, what she should do with them.

But then he pulled away, a distant look in his eyes, like he wasn't entirely sure if he'd actually done it. Katara mumbled something about getting to bed and scurried away.

Then, she ran. Lungs pumping, taking in thick, cold air that burned her throat, she ran until she had no more planks to follow. Then she sunk, back against a tree, suspended in the middle of the night sky. She felt as though she were flying. And in her own way, she was.

She closed her eyes and touched her lips, hesitantly, as if her fingers could make the tingling stop. She never wanted it to.

Aang and Sokka were asleep when she stumbled into their shared hut much, much later. After the cold night air cooled her burning, blushing skin. And the fresh rush of clean air slowed her thunderous heart. She was glad they were asleep, so she wouldn't have to ruin it by telling anyone.

It was her secret. And she kept it that night as she lay away, replaying the moment over and over, chills running up and down her arms and legs.

Until the next day.

Then, as she realized who Jet really was, and what he was capable of… she took the memory of his hand on her face, wiping away those worthless, ugly tears away and replaced the betrayal she felt with the butterflies that infested her chest.

So, she turned him into a monster, inside her mind. It was the only way she could justify it, to justify the hate that welled in her. It was the only way to justify the change she'd seen, still not allowing herself to admit that she never truly saw him, and probably still couldn't. She wouldn't admit that he was more complicated, because it was easier to hate him if he was a monster.

He'd tricked her, made her believe he cared. She lied to herself. But it was the only way to survive, her first heartache and heartbreak.

She relished the feeling of him struggling under the crushing force of her water. And for one, brief, tiny moment as he squirmed, she wanted to cover his face with water and watch him drown. She wished she could bend all the tears that she let fall for him and trap him with it. She wanted to bend away all those watery memories and use it to hurt him. She wanted to hurt him the way he hurt her. She wanted him to feel the kind of pain she did, deep in her bones, running through her veins, taunting her for being so foolish.

She wanted to make him look foolish.

Then in Ba Sing Se, she'd turned to find him so much the same. Still cocky, but with a streak of the clearest-blue-daring she'd ever known.

She thought she might have loved him then, still struggling against her water. His senbon stuck, quivering, jealously from his mouth. She wished she was that stick of straw, pressed firmly between lips. She still got chills when she recalled the way it felt to kiss those lips, even if it was fleeting. She knew what it was like to feel his breathe against her face, like the infinitesimal flap of a butterfly's wings, like a sprinkle of water tickling her face.

She thought she might have loved him under Lake Laogai. He was battered and bruised, but himself again. She wanted to heal him; she wanted to kiss him again. She wanted to apologize for not seeing it sooner, for not loving him sooner.

But she didn't. All she did was bend her water over him and think about the time when she wished it was her own tears that she'd trapped him with. She wondered if that wasn't true.

Did he love her, did he even respect her? Had he ever felt anything when he stole that kiss? Or was she a pawn, was it a tactic to get her to help him? Was it all a lie?

She wondered, helplessly, uselessly and never even once thought of the water at her hip, charmed and full of mystical powers.

But he lied anyway. How could he know that she had magical water that could have saved him?

Katara should have known. She should have been able to tell that he was lying.

But the city was falling apart. The Dai Li was running loose. Long Feng was getting away. Aang was in danger of losing control. And all Katara could do was trust him.

She trusted Jet. She believed him when he said he wasn't going to be alright.

Maybe it was self-preservation that made her believe it. Maybe it was easier for her to accept than admitting that he was going to die.

---

But she only found out his sad fate much later, after they were reunited with The Greatest Earth Bender That Ever Lived.

Katara cried. That was no surprise.

Though, she wasn't sure if it was because she loved him, or she only wished she had.

She is still so young, after all.

---

She still hides this secret, buried deep in her stomach, coiled around her heart, wrapped in the memory of a boy she can't seem to forget. She doesn't want to tell Aang. She thinks she may love him now. And in those short, in-between moments when Zuko looked right at her, with those unnerving eyes and beautiful scar (that she'll never admit is beautiful because it's tragic) she wouldn't have told him either. She may have loved him in those stolen moments too.

But she won't dwell on it. She's sick of stolen things, like moments, kisses and hearts.

She will become strong, and help defeat the Fire Lord with the water she bends and thinks of the tears she still can't stop from slipping at night when she's all alone. For Jet. For herself. For Aang, Toph and Sokka. For Iroh and his sad past, for Zuko and his lost Mother. For Azula because she'll never be able to understand balance. For Ty Lee and Mai who follow blindly. And for everyone else who can't fight back, or does and still gets beaten back.

Katara cries of river of tears that she could raise up and blanket the world, if only she were The Greatest **Water** Bender That Ever Lived.

She trains hard so that one day she could bend the water that flows through every person's body. Move the tiny flecks that inhabit veins and hearts so that they won't hurt anyone anymore. One day, she will control everyone's tears, and then she'll make it so that no one will ever cry again, the way she did for Jet.


End file.
